


Belial

by rexdaemoniorum



Series: Inner Circle [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Violence, Gen, Good Demons, Major Original Character(s), Original Character-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-03 09:21:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17281373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexdaemoniorum/pseuds/rexdaemoniorum
Summary: Having spoken to other demons suffering under Crowley's rule, Belial reflects on her old beliefs in Azazel's prodigy, as well as her own purpose in a changing Hell.





	Belial

Hell used to mean something. Something fearsome and threatening. Sure, humans weren’t caught up on demonic politics and were still pretty certain that hellfire and pitchforks awaited them below, but.. this? This was laughable.

 

“Waiting in lines,” Belial grumbled, her voice dripping with contempt.

 

“..What?”

 

“ _ Lines _ , Saleos. He thinks waiting in lines is proper punishment.”

 

“Well-,” began Saleos with a lump in his throat. “What are they waiting for?”

 

“That’s the thing. They’re not waiting for anything. The line never moves. You’re just standing there.” She could barely contain her hatred for the idea. She had to keep her shit-talking to a minimum, but it got more difficult with every stupid ass decision this Crowley guy made.

 

“Pardon me if I am wrong, dear Belial, but.. waiting in eternal lines.. all the tables being wobbly.. if I didn’t know any better I’d have believed this was your ideal Hell, too.”

 

The demoness sputtered and gasped at the accusation before gathering herself.

 

“You think crossroads demons are all the same, eh? It’s all brain-rotting entrepreneur bullshit, isn’t it? Nah. Not all of us like this.. corporate crap.”

 

The priest leaned back in his chair, his eyes briefly flickering an oily black back to those oaky brown irises. “My apologies. But the assumption was not out of thin air. You do seem to target the very same humans in that sort of lifestyle.”

 

“Yeah, the ones who  _ profit _ off them,” Belial scoffed. “With more money than they could ever need, putting price tags on their fellow men and their lives.. classic greed and villainy like that deserves some old-fashioned Hell punishment! I’m a damn good dealer! I don’t reap souls just for them to end up in the same place they started!”

 

“So you think this is.. simply not.. challenging?”

 

Belial shook her head, leaning on the shaky table with a tight lipped grin. “It’s not a change of scenery. Not for the people who  _ deserve _ to be here.” She stood up from her seat and smirked at Saleos before turning away. “I need you to think on that for a bit. I gotta check on Clemens.”

* * *

“Tell me, love,” Clemens crooned through the window of his cell, “What was it like, working for Azazel?”

 

Belial shrugged it off, pretending it was a silly question rather than one she’d simply forgotten the answer to. “It was.. just as you’d expect, y’know? Nothing out of the ordinary, or king-related, really. I was off doing my own thing around that time.”

 

“Makes me wonder why Crowley hasn’t locked you up, yet,” he prodded playfully. Belial swatted at him through the bars.

 

“I keep my mouth shut about Sam, that’s why.”

 

“Do you?” Clemens asked with a shit-eating grin.

 

“In front of Crowley,” answered Belial through a chuckle. “Maybe the guy just doesn’t do his research.”

 

It was a shame Clemens was imprisoned for his affiliation with the Church of the Gilded King. As a high-ranking demon of the racks, it was counterproductive to Hell’s idea of punishment. Not to mention he was enjoyable to be around (if you’re not under his knife), clearly being charming and flirtatious with just about everybody. Belial wished she could find a way to get him out. 

 

The clanking of chains snapped both of them out of it. She quickly stepped back and pretended to not have been chatting Clemens up, just in time for Agate and some other guards to enter the chamber, dragging behind her a new prisoner with a burned, charred head and lacerated arms.

 

“It’s like I told everyone else down here,” crooned Agate through a half-closed mouth, the cigarette on her lips bouncing as she spoke, “There’s no place in Crowley’s kingdom for old thinkers like you.” 

 

The demon was too weak to even lift their head in response, coughing in pain as their captors wrestled them into their cell, chains and all.

 

“See you, sucker,” she grumbled, taking a long drag of her cigarette and proceeding down the hallway. She eyed Belial peculiarly and puffed out a quick cloud as she walked past. Only when the chamber was empty again did Clemens speak up.

 

“She’s a shadow of who she used to be,” he murmured in that soothing, honeyed voice. 

 

Belial let out a  _ tsk _ in curiosity. “How so?”

 

“She was just as avid a believer in the true king as I, you know. I even saved her from the Rack. Her belief in Sam Winchester rivaled her hatred for his elder brother, who created her. But she doesn’t know that was him.”

 

Her mouth was slack open with intrigue, and she couldn’t help but grin and giggle at this new information. “Clemens, you can’t just keep that shit from me! That’s crucial information to have i—“

 

She silenced herself when she heard sounds coming from the same direction Agate left in. Something clicking along the stone floor, some rapid, furious sniffing. Chains dragging. 

 

Hellhounds. It hadn’t even occurred to her that Agate wasn’t only a prison guard, but held the reins on just about every hellhound in all seven circles. And just as expected, she walked back into her peripheral, holding on an enormous chain a brolic, snarling dog with dull white eyes. 

 

Leaning against the wall across from Clemens’ cell, Belial failed to look casual. She crossed her arms stiffly and averted her gaze like there was nothing to see, which only appeared to make Agate more suspicious. 

 

“You should stop listening to this deluded good-for-nothing, Bel,” she snorted, shooting her a nasty glance and flicking the crumbling cigarette in her direction.

 

Belial couldn’t help herself. She let her continue to walk off before calling out after her.

 

“And he should’ve left you on the skewer he found you on,  _ bitch _ .”

 

The pale demoness stopped dead in her tracks before dropping the chain she held with. She slowly turned back with an expression that suggested she was holding back an outburst with all her might. Instead, she let out a short, clipped whistle that made the hound at her feet perk up.

 

_ “ _ Bel, run, _ ”  _ Clemens whispered in a panic. She nearly fell back before pivoting on one foot and tearing off in the opposite direction. She could hear the dog barking and snarling, assuming Agate gestured for it to have at her. 

 

Rounding the corner, Belial instinctively paused at the sight of two demons blocking her path, and she was certain she’d die from panic before either of these threats got to her. The hound grew louder and louder before it was right up on her ear, and she felt dull, stone-like teeth sink into her face and tackle her to the ground. 

 

The dog ripped at her flesh with such ferocity, gnawing at her cheekbone and ripping the skin like it was tissue paper.

 

While Belial struggled under the weight of the beast, she could hear Agate call over the demons in front of her, and they rushed past, seemingly off to punish Clemens for running his mouth. With the whole left side of her face feeling like it were on fire, she curled up defensively in order to further protect herself. After a few desperate kicks, the hound lost interest and scampered off, back towards a voice that called out once more.

 

“Consider that a warning!”

 

Belial didn’t move. Not after what just happened. Overcome not only with pain, but grief- for no attempt to cover her ears could muffle the sound of Clemens’ distant screams.

* * *

 

Soon enough, though, they stopped.

Though the recovery from such an attack was painful, the rest of Belial’s duties didn’t wait for her. Days after the hellhound nearly bit out her left eye, she was back on crossroads duty. 

 

And it just so happened to be a soul-reaping; you know, the one that required the use of hellhounds.

 

She didn’t want to look at another one of those horrific things ever again. Just the sound of their sharp, piercing barks made her skin crawl. It didn’t matter. She didn’t care if it wasn’t going to work. She wasn’t going to resort to using the mutts for this job.

 

It was a client she’d dealt with five years ago. He’d made a deal to be impossibly persuasive- to woo any woman he pleased, land any job he wanted.. get anything his shriveled little heart yearned for. Anything he could enjoy before the bell rang.

 

“Randall Jacobs,” Belial greeted hoarsely, appearing behind him. “Time’s up.”

 

The man quickly swiveled around as if he had been expecting her. He nearly choked on his spit at the sight of her ravaged eye, wincing at the reddened, shredded skin across her cheek. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, move past it. You’ll have plenty of time to register inconceivable wounds where  _ you’re  _ going.”

 

Randall gave her a smarmy grin and a fake laugh.

 

“I-I don’t think so, actually. On second thought, I’m gonna stay.” He grinned as if he’d ended the argument with a single statement. Belial blinked and rolled her working eye.

 

“Did you really wager this whole deal on the belief that you could persuade  _ me _ to spare you? Yeah, no. That ain’t gonna work, pal.”

 

He leaned slightly to the side, and looked around warily. “Well- then why haven’t you brought the, uh, the dogs? I heard there’d b- there’d be dogs.”

 

Belial was already reaching into her jacket before leveling a magnum pistol right at his face. She knew it was a ridiculously human approach to soul-reaping, so she made sure to use her demon abilities to hold him in place while she aimed.

 

“I hate dogs,” she bit out before firing.

* * *

 

The shitty excuse for a house that Saleos lived in was never expected to be a common location for Belial. But circumstances always brought her back to that absolute freak. 

 

“Why’d you even come here if you won’t let me treat that wound?” He pried, staring at the nasty bite. The skin around it was not taking the damage well.

 

“Because you’re lucky enough I even talk to you. I ain’t gettin’ any more generous and letting you put your hands on me. Plus, it’s not like I’ll die if it gets infected.”

 

“Switch vessels, then.”

 

Belial furiously shook her head. “No. No, Azazel rarely switched vessels. He tried to stick with the same one as long as he could. Switching vessels is a sign of weakness. And I’m certainly not weak,” she asserted, reaching up with a trembling hand before going past the wound, touching her head. “..Maybe I’ll just.. grow my hair out. O-or get an eyepatch.”

 

Saleos stopped busily tending to his wares and collection of spell ingredients to take his seat at the table.

 

“What have you been up to.. since then?” He asked, trying his best to scrounge up some concern.

 

Belial winced, flinching as the hardening skin folded and split with the gesture. “Got that five-year soul.” She leaned back in her chair and touched her eye, looking down and seeing a drop of blood on her hand. “You know, I thought more about what we discussed. The kind of poor bastards I reap for a living.”

 

“Mm, even when you told  _ me  _ to think more on it?” He teased. She wasn’t listening.

 

Belial wiped the blood on her sleeve before leaning over threateningly. “I have a penchant for the good-for-nothings. They ask for material things, or ways to get ‘em. They’re  _ so  _ easy. And you know when you’re about to strike a deal with one.”

 

“They want, they want, they want,” she continued, “..even when they know their material possessions could never compensate for what little they contribute to humanity.” For a brief moment, the pain in her face briefly subsided, and she felt as good as she’d ever been. “They try to change themselves, try to change what others think of ‘em.. but it’s no good. They’re going to end up where they started, anyway. With nothing. They think what I give ‘em’s a gift, but it’s just a distraction. They thank me at first.. but I’ll take it away soon enough.”

 

“My goodness, dear Belial,” breathed Saleos, his brows furrowing in surprise. Usually  _ he  _ was the one monologuing. “I’d never thought of it that way.”

 

She gave him a smirk. “S’why they call ‘em the sons of Belial.”


End file.
